Tag Archives: essay

January Biolet #30

the dopplers never lie to us
save yourselves a tempest’s coming
panic surges and then nothing
a spot of rain for all this fuss
save yourselves a tempest’s coming
the dopplers never lie to us

~kat

So…true story. I live in a mid-Atlantic state. When the weather forecasters utter the “s” words, snow…sleet…people here panic. Now I grew up in Chicago and it’s suburbs, so I’m not used to this sort of thing. We learned how to drive in the stuff as teenagers. Not here. The prospect of an inch or two of snow followed by freezing rain and plummeting temperatures causes all manner of mayhem. Schools and businesses close. Store shelves are depleted of milk and bread and if you happen to be at work when the stuff starts coming down there is a steady shuffle to the parking lot to get home before it gets bad. I know, because my cubicle is situated at the exit door.

Yesterday was one such weather event day. Just after noon a light rain started. My desk is near a window so there was an occasional glance over my shoulder to assess the situation. “Here it comes!” said one onlooker. “You need to get out and home before it gets bad,” said another. “Don’t stay too late.” “Be careful out there.” By now the schools had closed, so the parents were the first to escape danger. Then the rest of the staff made their way out into the tempest, which after an hour or so, had passed. The sky was bright blue with a few soft wisps of white. But the weather forecasters had told us to expect up to two inches of snow. One can’t be too careful you know. It all made me laugh!

As for me, I stayed on to the end of my shift. I got a lot of work done. No interruptions. And when it was time to go, I was rewarded with the most beautiful red sky sunset.

So that is what inspired my Biolet today. There were still rumblings if doom uttered today. It’s supposedly going to be very cold, not as cold as those North of us are facing, but cold. It is winter after all. This too shall pass. 😄🤣😄


Sunday’s Week in Reverse – 20 January 2019

I find myself growing numb to the endless onslaught of atrocities perpetrated by our government. How many more children can we separate from parents, how many loyal federal workers, force to work with no pay, how many closed door meetings with dictators will we tolerate, how many policy disasters decreed by tweet, how many alliances with the vile underbelly of society, murderers, racists, mysogynists, liars, criminals, until we say enough? There is of course, as conservatives will remind us, blame on both sides. It’s true, we could all do much better, working together while laying aside our differences for the common good. But I take issue with false comparison that all sides are equally at fault for our problems. There is a common denominator at the root of every issue. A single person, I’ll-equipped to hold the honorable office of President, who nevertheless claimed that title, with our help, and it is becoming increasingly evident, with the help of foreign enemies. I am numb.

How can people still support the infantile tantrums of this hateful man? I have come to realize that most people don’t pay attention to the news like I do. They only pay attention when they are personally affected by bad policy. Longer, slower lines at the airport, our food supply growing unsafe, unemployment rising due to decreased cashflow, services interrupted, garbage and human waste accumulating in public places, teachers on strike, healthcare costs surging, stagnant wages while corporate executives and shareholders reap record profits. These things are getting worse by the day.

Trump supporters would like to blame the democrats for these ills. “But Obama…” “her emails…” “Benghazi” “fake news” are still go-to catch phrases that justify supporting the con artist they call their president. I hold these diehards accountable for the mess we are in. I wish I could look the other way, look past their reckless decision, and support of a man that puts all of us in peril. But I want them to own it. To admit they screwed up. To wake up and come to their senses. I do acknowledge that I play a role in the chasm between us. I can’t forgive their willful ignorance. I can’t un-know the fact that by their vote, these people sold all of us out to a monster. I warned them this would happen. Why wouldn’t they listen? How could they vote against their own best interest?

Of course they don’t want to talk politics. But their day is coming. The piper is coming to collect. The misery is trickling down. And so, I’m grateful for the numbness. Who would I be if I delighted in their suffering. Being numb helps me let go of my need for redress. When I’m being honest with myself I realize I want those who voted for this to pay. And in that sense I am no different. We all have a dark side. It is becoming harder to keep the darkness at bay. But I’m weary of the fight. I’m tired of being angry. Being numb is a blessed reprieve from the madness.


Sunday’s Week in Reverse – 20 January 2019

there is more to her short story

can you see her?

a gentle hand can turn the page

i tell you

don’t you worry

we can’t unsee, we can’t un-know

you certainly can’t blame the muse

I’ve been called worse, if you must know

cold and darkness overcoming

clouds can’t dim her face this night

flickering in the darkness

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 13 January 2019

I never know what I’m going to get when I look back each week to lift a line from each day’s musings. Sometimes the resulting re-verse is a random jumble of thoughts, but I am always amazed by the final poem. Sometimes it just clicks. Like today.

It would be an understatement to say that 2018 was a rough year, globally as well as personally. There were bright spots of course. The birth of a new grandchild sweetened our summer and the opportunity to save the life of an abandoned puppy was a joyful honor, but the challenges we encountered throughout the remainder of the year tested our patience and faith in goodness. 2018 was a year of survival. Unemployment, blatant discrimination, milestones with estranged family lost, and the heartache of missing my beloveds.

Enter 2019, a clean slate symbolically, a new Congress and truth finally coming to light on the world front…people waking up. And closer to home, a new job for my partner to help ease the financial burden that weighed heavy on me (and my tiny paycheck) for half of the previous year. A new acceptance of things I cannot change and a newfound appreciation for the family that I am blessed with. We survived! But more than that, we are thriving, a year older, wiser and filled with a sense of grace. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know we’re going to be okay. I know it from my core. That’s what surviving and being present in the passing of seasons teaches us.

Will there be challenges in 2019? I am sure of it. Will we make it through? Chances are good that we will. There are sure to be bright spots, and magnificent triumphs too. There is grace enough to see us through it all. Grace enough to hold us when we need to remember to breathe and savor the moment. I wish you abundance, good health, and peace in the coming year. I wish you grace.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 13 January 2019

I notice sounds that I’ve ignored
something real
wounded hearts take time to heal
it’s bubbling
there is no reasoning with them
there is no rustling of leaves
devoured in calamity
her crystal gown is drenched in sleet
miracles, just a breath away
though we have lost our way

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 16 December 2018

It takes work to be an optimist. Especially during the dark months of winter. We light candles, hang twinkling lights, decorate our homes, bake sweets, gather together, give gifts, sing songs. With all this gaiety and joy surrounding us, it’s hard to imagine anyone being sad. But so many people are this time of year.

We expect so much of ourselves and others. Of course this just sets us up for disappointment. And we are entirely too hard on ourselves, in my humble opinion of course. Alright, I’ll be honest with you, I tend to be too hard on myself.

I found a heart shaped lump of snow this week. (True story) It warmed my heart. It made me realize that the most important thing in this world is kindness and yes, love. Not just loving others and being loved. As wonderful as that is, it’s loving oneself that makes all the difference. It’s realizing that I am worthy to be loved, most of all by myself. That little lump of snow reminded me. And I hope you realize it about yourself, too. And don’t be so hard on yourself (I’m saying this to myself most of all). May you find the light that shines inside of you this season of long nights. Have a great week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 16 December 2018

clinging to petals, frozen,
dawning amber, silent morn
Ya neva’ know what ya’ might find in its belly
things that stir my soul
nose to the grind stone
soft snores, puppy breath
you’ve signed away every drop
reminding me that love’s everywhere

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 November 2018

It’s so very convenient to “not go there”, especially for the milk spillers, who would rather not be reminded of the souring pool of curdling mess that they’ve wrought by their carelessness. I’m talking religion and politics of course. Oh…you didn’t know? I’m quite good at hiding behind symbolism, metaphors, and allegories. I sometimes speak in code, or not at all, simply blinking, curling a lip or rolling my eyes.

Mostly I stayed silent, happy to be invited to the party. I followed the rules. Talked about the weather and … the weather, but they knew. They always knew I wasn’t one of them. They tolerated me because, well, because I was their mother.

And then they helped to elect a monster. A monster who has ushered in a vile reign of greed, bigotry, misogyny and hate. We live in a world now, where anything goes, where there is no truth because everything is fake. “Don’t believe what you think you see, believe only me,” he spews, and they lap up his drivel like honey. They’ve closed ranks, put up a wall, drawn a line in the sand and think nothing of challenging anyone who dares question why or how they could support such a monster. They think nothing of shunning those who can’t stomach the madness, just get along, stop talking politics ever, even when they’re not around, unfriending, disowning, even their own mother…

Sorry for the rant. If you read me, you know you can expect messy, raw honesty. It’s been two years since I’ve been invited to share Thanksgiving with all my children, and consequently, my grandchildren. Two years since my oldest and second born have spoken to me. Two years of missed birthdays, missed graduations, missed milestones. My youngest two still speak to me, as long as I follow the rules. As long as I don’t mention the spilt milk souring in the corner. As long as I behave, I am allowed to see them. We talk recipes and the weather, global warming aside. I know better than to go there. I know better.

We just celebrated the first of a string of holidays here in the US. Thanksgiving was this past Thursday. Soon comes Christmas and New Years…then the birthdays roll ‘round, Mother’s Day, graduations, summer holidays. Two years ago was the last holiday they tolerated me. Last year they didn’t. And this year, I expect nothing.

I know the price of speaking the truth. I know the dear cost of honesty. These days I’m learning to let go. These days I’m rediscovering myself; figuring out who I am after decades of being a mother, and a grandmother to eight; five of whom I may never see again. I’ll always be those things, but I am more. These days I’m learning how strong I am. These days I’m learning how precious life is no matter the heartache.

I love the rain. It’s raining today. A perfect day to bake a cake, to write poetry, to forgive myself my faults, and to be at peace, having let go of expectations. When I do that, even the smallest thing is a gift. This week of being thankful finds me thankful still. Yes, I am thankful.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 November 2018

don’t expect too much
lay them down, down
this mid-autumn night
things like, ‘I love you’
I’m not listening. La, la, la!!!
I made a wish one rainy day
haunted by time’s tocking tick
to know, in a moment’s glance,
in the star dappled void of night
she glows ever bright
turning bare branches dark
to disagree won’t do when truth’s at stake

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


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